Dedicated to the brave warriors of my Literature and Performance group who strive to teach me something new everyday.
Between lesson 3 and lesson 6 they broke up. For the last and final time. She even scraped his name off the locker. Although she had done that before, this WAS the full and final. She was sure of that.
Maybe it began with a discussion about love and sandwiches. What is love, they had been asked. And they had variously replied that it could be anything from attention, getting sandwiches for the other, or a chemical rush much like being high... Or something unreal that you only saw as unreal when it had ended. But, he had said then, that this was the mind's way of coping with loss. To move on, perhaps, the mind needed, wanted, to feel that it was unreal. And the one day that he didn't bring a sandwich, they broke up.
She had had a crush on him since A Streetcar Named Desire, and he used to like this other chick in school. It still got awkward when he talked to the other girl. Well, not any longer, only till the third lesson. Amazingly, the connection between their minds and souls was lost but her laptop was still picking up the signal from his laptop. Clearly, technology begged to differ on the matter of disconnection.
The crazy facilitator could tell that they needed a moment, although both were in denial... And waited it out as she sang the Shin-Shan title track with another zany member of the class. Admittedly, this was really tacky even for a break up situation.
Accusingly he said, you accessed my Facebook.
She coolly denied it, almost languid in her disinterest in his Facebook as with all other things related to him.
You know, the crazy facilitator added, years from now when all of you think back and remember these lessons....you will wonder deeply how it is that they let an insane person like me teach you for two years!
Laughter.
Relief.
A sigh.
A blinked back tear.
A look in the eyes clearly signifying that the mind was elsewhere although the head nodded, unknowingly, unlisteningly...
Why should Coleridge, in spite of the vivid sensory images, inspire, when between lesson 3 and lesson 6, they had broken up?
I will always remember your classes, she said. I found my high school sweetheart in your class. She avoided meeting his eyes as she said this, even though she could feel his boring into her face.
But she did feel much calmer than after all the previous break ups. The tension and agony, the just-welling tears were missing. Unlike before.
When they had first got together, the entire class had been dumbfounded. They didn't seem like an ideal couple or even an unideal one from any angle. The only thing, however, that they had collectively said was, Don't you dare break up till the year is over. We can't sit in this room and feel the thick-strung tension that is sure to follow. Of course the faculty, as in any semi-hypocritical institution, was duly divided in their opinion on whether this was a good thing or a terrible one. After all, prizing teenagers out of shady corners of the building or bushes was a tiring and boring job, even if the Bush Squad had received many accolades in the past for doing just that.
But when the first flush of flowing hormones and chemicals had run its course, the differences seemed apparent even to the two of them. So what was the greatest difference between the two of them? Cuisine! His pure vegetarian family...while her father owned one of the most happening non-veg restaurants in the centre of town. Not that this caused any friction, really. It was something to keep in mind for later, IF indeed there was a later. Yes, the love was very real, but would it last?
In fact, she now wondered what love was all about. Was it about getting or giving, or perhaps about getting while giving? But in the end rather hopelessly about getting, either way. This minor epiphany made her somewhat despondent, seeing as it took away from what one wanted to believe love was capable of doing for the human mind with its handicapped tendency to be selfish.
Then the other crazy Golfer sitting across the room stating quite frankly that if it wasn't for the good times (read sex) that he and the girl he had dated for close to four years, would not have lasted together for longer than a few weeks. And though they had never tired of the good times, it had become suffocating and now he continuously wondered how two people that different could ever have had a relationship. But for the girl it had been a good relationship, he said. She had got the closeness when she wanted it, and the space to focus on her studies when she wanted that. However, in her long absences while she studied, he grew too used to being on his own, spending time by himself exploring everything from bandage sculpture to acrylic art and everything in between. And there came a point when he preferred to be on his own rather than with her.
The death knell of a relationship, said the class Player, is rung by insecurity. I've only been in a relationship once, for about five months, and my insecurities just killed it. I was always trying to make her comfortable, trying to ensure that everything was perfect, that I was perfect for her. There was no space in there for anything real to happen.
There was, clearly, the need for much analysis here.
When you are out of the relationship why doesn't it seem like it was love, asked the Golfer, again. Somehow, this is the reason that I don't want to date.
People who say that they don't want to date are saying this because they don't have anyone to date at that moment, quipped the Player, though fairly seriously. But when they find someone that they want to date, they forget what they said earlier.
He who reflects on things is deep, intoned the Golfer, he who doesn't, isn't.
Reflecting is not about going deep into things, retorted the Player.
Talking of deep, there was a time when he got that he was a part of my life, she said dreamily. An important part, but not my whole life. But then, later, he stopped getting it.
May I draw your attention to this idea of a solid sea with slimy creatures crawling on the surface, asked the facilitator in a mildly desperate tone.
You can't call her love life a solid sea with slimy creatures on it, you know, said the Golfer. She may feel offended and hurt.
She is not talking about anyone's love life, you dolt, said the girl who had made a guest appearance that day. She is talking about the poem.
Really, asked the Golfer. I thought we were talking about the real world.
The poem IS the real world, replied Guest Appearance. WE are imaginary.
The Player suddenly tuned back in with, I know that when I'm drunk and she's drunk, and there's no emotion involved. It's just the physical thing. That is enough for me.
The Golfer said somewhat condescendingly, Bro', relationships are not about throwing darts at a map and marking larger and larger territory. You travel like that. Not have sex.
Sure, said the Player. But at the end of the day, rather than getting your emotions in a knot, and breaking up and patching up like these two... You have to admit that there is something to be said about clean, honest sex.
The Hotshot Actor suddenly seemed to come alive. He piped up with, a relationship is a place in which two people use each other.
And somewhere between home and school, playing hooky on a Goldilocks-weather day, they patched up. Again.
Between lesson 3 and lesson 6 they broke up. For the last and final time. She even scraped his name off the locker. Although she had done that before, this WAS the full and final. She was sure of that.
Maybe it began with a discussion about love and sandwiches. What is love, they had been asked. And they had variously replied that it could be anything from attention, getting sandwiches for the other, or a chemical rush much like being high... Or something unreal that you only saw as unreal when it had ended. But, he had said then, that this was the mind's way of coping with loss. To move on, perhaps, the mind needed, wanted, to feel that it was unreal. And the one day that he didn't bring a sandwich, they broke up.
She had had a crush on him since A Streetcar Named Desire, and he used to like this other chick in school. It still got awkward when he talked to the other girl. Well, not any longer, only till the third lesson. Amazingly, the connection between their minds and souls was lost but her laptop was still picking up the signal from his laptop. Clearly, technology begged to differ on the matter of disconnection.
The crazy facilitator could tell that they needed a moment, although both were in denial... And waited it out as she sang the Shin-Shan title track with another zany member of the class. Admittedly, this was really tacky even for a break up situation.
Accusingly he said, you accessed my Facebook.
She coolly denied it, almost languid in her disinterest in his Facebook as with all other things related to him.
You know, the crazy facilitator added, years from now when all of you think back and remember these lessons....you will wonder deeply how it is that they let an insane person like me teach you for two years!
Laughter.
Relief.
A sigh.
A blinked back tear.
A look in the eyes clearly signifying that the mind was elsewhere although the head nodded, unknowingly, unlisteningly...
Why should Coleridge, in spite of the vivid sensory images, inspire, when between lesson 3 and lesson 6, they had broken up?
I will always remember your classes, she said. I found my high school sweetheart in your class. She avoided meeting his eyes as she said this, even though she could feel his boring into her face.
But she did feel much calmer than after all the previous break ups. The tension and agony, the just-welling tears were missing. Unlike before.
When they had first got together, the entire class had been dumbfounded. They didn't seem like an ideal couple or even an unideal one from any angle. The only thing, however, that they had collectively said was, Don't you dare break up till the year is over. We can't sit in this room and feel the thick-strung tension that is sure to follow. Of course the faculty, as in any semi-hypocritical institution, was duly divided in their opinion on whether this was a good thing or a terrible one. After all, prizing teenagers out of shady corners of the building or bushes was a tiring and boring job, even if the Bush Squad had received many accolades in the past for doing just that.
But when the first flush of flowing hormones and chemicals had run its course, the differences seemed apparent even to the two of them. So what was the greatest difference between the two of them? Cuisine! His pure vegetarian family...while her father owned one of the most happening non-veg restaurants in the centre of town. Not that this caused any friction, really. It was something to keep in mind for later, IF indeed there was a later. Yes, the love was very real, but would it last?
In fact, she now wondered what love was all about. Was it about getting or giving, or perhaps about getting while giving? But in the end rather hopelessly about getting, either way. This minor epiphany made her somewhat despondent, seeing as it took away from what one wanted to believe love was capable of doing for the human mind with its handicapped tendency to be selfish.
Then the other crazy Golfer sitting across the room stating quite frankly that if it wasn't for the good times (read sex) that he and the girl he had dated for close to four years, would not have lasted together for longer than a few weeks. And though they had never tired of the good times, it had become suffocating and now he continuously wondered how two people that different could ever have had a relationship. But for the girl it had been a good relationship, he said. She had got the closeness when she wanted it, and the space to focus on her studies when she wanted that. However, in her long absences while she studied, he grew too used to being on his own, spending time by himself exploring everything from bandage sculpture to acrylic art and everything in between. And there came a point when he preferred to be on his own rather than with her.
The death knell of a relationship, said the class Player, is rung by insecurity. I've only been in a relationship once, for about five months, and my insecurities just killed it. I was always trying to make her comfortable, trying to ensure that everything was perfect, that I was perfect for her. There was no space in there for anything real to happen.
There was, clearly, the need for much analysis here.
When you are out of the relationship why doesn't it seem like it was love, asked the Golfer, again. Somehow, this is the reason that I don't want to date.
People who say that they don't want to date are saying this because they don't have anyone to date at that moment, quipped the Player, though fairly seriously. But when they find someone that they want to date, they forget what they said earlier.
He who reflects on things is deep, intoned the Golfer, he who doesn't, isn't.
Reflecting is not about going deep into things, retorted the Player.
Talking of deep, there was a time when he got that he was a part of my life, she said dreamily. An important part, but not my whole life. But then, later, he stopped getting it.
May I draw your attention to this idea of a solid sea with slimy creatures crawling on the surface, asked the facilitator in a mildly desperate tone.
You can't call her love life a solid sea with slimy creatures on it, you know, said the Golfer. She may feel offended and hurt.
She is not talking about anyone's love life, you dolt, said the girl who had made a guest appearance that day. She is talking about the poem.
Really, asked the Golfer. I thought we were talking about the real world.
The poem IS the real world, replied Guest Appearance. WE are imaginary.
The Player suddenly tuned back in with, I know that when I'm drunk and she's drunk, and there's no emotion involved. It's just the physical thing. That is enough for me.
The Golfer said somewhat condescendingly, Bro', relationships are not about throwing darts at a map and marking larger and larger territory. You travel like that. Not have sex.
Sure, said the Player. But at the end of the day, rather than getting your emotions in a knot, and breaking up and patching up like these two... You have to admit that there is something to be said about clean, honest sex.
The Hotshot Actor suddenly seemed to come alive. He piped up with, a relationship is a place in which two people use each other.
And somewhere between home and school, playing hooky on a Goldilocks-weather day, they patched up. Again.
No comments:
Post a Comment